


it's a beautiful sound, it's a beautiful noise

by dramaturgicallycorrect



Series: all my favorite conversations [8]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Angel Harry, M/M, also a bit ot4, hey angel au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:23:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5557781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramaturgicallycorrect/pseuds/dramaturgicallycorrect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Liam looks up to the sky, and Harry wonders what he searches for there. Because his gaze does search beyond the casual observation of the beauty of the stars.</i>
</p><p>  <i>He wonders if Liam looks for him, if Liam can feel him watching, if Liam wants Harry the way Harry wants to be around him. It is selfish, how he thinks of Liam thinking of him, but if Harry could hope, that is what he would hope for.</i></p><p>  <i>“I am right here,” Harry reassures him.</i></p><p>  <i>Liam’s eyes drop from the stars, but they do not look for him like Harry wishes they would.</i></p><p> </p><p>[Or Harry is a guardian of souls, but he wishes he was more like us.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's a beautiful sound, it's a beautiful noise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wearecities (falsetto)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsetto/gifts).



> This is for Natasha, the literal guardian of all Lirry, who has been exceedingly kind when reading my Lirry, so I wanted to give her one of her own.
> 
> This is part of a series of Christmas present fics (...loosely) based on songs from Made in the AM.

 

Harry is not meant to have a favorite, but he does. He is a young man named Liam, and Harry is quite taken with him. He has many souls under his care, but Liam shines the brightest. Liam’s generous and kind, quick to smile. Quite like a guardian himself with how well he takes care of those around him. So Harry visits with him weekly, even on days he does not need guidance.

Harry perches on the table next to the copier, swinging his legs and watching Liam battle with the machine valiantly. The cartridge huffs out a cloud of toner in his face and Liam sputters. He wipes at his face, doing nothing more than smearing it until he looks like the singing chimney sweep from the movie they watched together last week.

He does not alleviate Liam’s frustration. Pain is often a good thing. He hums, instead, what he remembers of the chimney sweep’s song, and watches.

Liam thunks his head down onto the copier, leaving a smudge of toner on the machine under his forehead. Harry watches his light dim with not only the frustration of his situation, but once his frustration begins to extend to his life. He can feel the doubt creep into Liam’s heart -- what is he doing here, why isn’t he meant for something greater than this, when he should give up on his dream and get a _real job_.

It’s true he wastes his talent arguing with copy machines, perfecting his boss’ favorite coffee, getting sandwiches for artists he’d rather be working in the booth with, painstakingly typing up meeting notes even though he knows he isn’t the fastest typer. It’s true that Liam is destined for something greater -- Harry can sense it. Not because he can see Liam’s path, but because he believes in Liam.

“You can do it, Liam,” Harry says gently.

Liam lifts his head, rejuvenated, and gets back to work, his fingers digging into the beast of a machine until it submits.

This is all he usually needs, a gentle encouragement, a touch of grace. Harry suspects most of his souls are waiting for Harry to do the work for them, but never Liam. Harry feels his pride, his determination, his ambition. When Liam channels them at the right time and the right place, he becomes unstoppable. Liam only needs the patience to recognize that.

\--

Liam putters around his flat as Harry closes his eyes to reach for his other souls. He will need to visit with two of them tomorrow, he can feel their hope drain and their light flicker.

When Harry comes back to himself, he finds Liam standing at his window, the curtains drawn so he can look out. Liam looks up to the sky, and Harry wonders what he searches for there. Because his gaze does search beyond the casual observation of the beauty of the stars.

He wonders if Liam looks for him, if Liam can feel him watching, if Liam wants Harry the way Harry wants to be around him. It is selfish, how he thinks of Liam thinking of him, but if Harry could hope, that is what he would hope for.

“I am right here,” Harry reassures him.

Liam’s eyes drop from the stars, but they do not look for him like Harry wishes they would.

On the streets below them, people walk together, laughing and chatting and cuddling and kissing. Harry doesn’t often let himself wonder what that would be like, if he were human and he could do those things. He doesn’t know what it feels like to be paid attention to because he is meant to be the one paying attention.

He wishes for Liam’s attention, which he is only granted unknowingly, but it never feels like enough. But he cannot strive for more because it isn’t his place to want, nor is it his place to have.

“What am I doing?” Liam whispers to himself.

“Your best,” Harry answers. He’s not sure that is enough for Liam, the way he does not look satisfied by his answer.

Liam turns back and settles down at his computer for the night, opening up the tracks and the mixer, popping on his headphones. He works at the demo for hours, testing every track in every way he can until he is either satisfied with the result or too frustrated with himself to continue and he moves on. Liam dreams of the day he will show the demo to his producer, to not only sign his friend Jade’s band but to prove his own worth.

“I like this one the best,” Harry says of the fifth incarnation of the ballad Liam works on. Liam huffs, unsatisfied. He wrenches off his headphones and drops them on his desk before running his hands over his face.

Harry glances back at Liam’s alarm clock. Liam won’t rest enough tonight, though he does not rest enough most nights. Harry doesn’t interfere because he knows this is what Liam wants to do. But the darkness that rims Liam’s eyes, the exhaustion that settles in his bones -- this is not meant for Liam.

Liam fears the demo will never be done, it will never be perfect. He is not willing to risk his reputation if it is not perfect. But Liam must not waste his life waiting for perfect because he will never find it. He will harm himself before he realizes it is too late.

Harry presses his fingers lightly to Liam’s cheek, letting him soak up their warmth. “You need to rest.”

Liam’s eyes drift shut and he softens as he mumbles, “‘Kay.”

He rises slowly from his chair and barely makes it the five steps to his bed before he collapses in it, face first, his feet dangling off the edge.

“That can’t be very comfortable,” Harry remarks drily, and Liam groans into the duvet before he starts a slow inchworm-like shuffle up towards his pillow to tuck himself in.

Harry presses a kiss to Liam’s forehead for a peaceful sleep as his eyes slowly drift shut again.

Harry is not meant to worry, but he does.

\--

Harry finds Louis in a pub, leaning against the counter as he braces his head with one hand and grades papers with his other. He has half a pint already sweating before him. Harry sits on the empty stool next to him and peers at his work -- the five minute plays he assigned his kids a few weeks ago. He’d been excited for those, one of the only things he’d looked forward to in quite some time.

“How’s it going, Louis?”

Louis sighs heavily. Harry hums in solidarity and tells him about Liam. Louis usually bears the brunt of Harry’s dissertations on Liam, but not unfairly. This is what Louis needs, to have attention paid to him, though he cannot hear and he cannot answer. Louis wants someone to tell him things.

Louis’ hand slides a little towards Harry, like he would offer it up to him if he could. Harry, though grateful, does not take it. He lapses into silence and Louis focuses on his work.

Louis chuckles to himself when one of his students gets in a good line, but otherwise he remains fairly quiet. This is not like Louis, not the Louis he knew some years ago when he first began to look after him.

His soul is heavy with loneliness. He is meant to have people. He comes to this place to be around people, but he doesn’t engage.

“What about her?” Harry asks, waving his hand over Louis’ eyes to gather his attention and waits for Louis’ head to swing up with Harry’s hand to scan the room. “Her soul is beautiful. And she has a dog, you like dogs.”

Louis tilts his head in consideration, like the thought is bouncing around, but then he purses his lips and drops his eyes back down to the play. He doesn’t look for love, as his heart still mends its recent break.

He lost her, and then all of their friends in the aftermath, having decided they all _chose her_ instead of trying to make it work with the two of them.

He seeks companionship above intimacy, but he thinks he isn’t worthy of attention now, something inside of Louis besides his heart having broken at the realization. Harry tries his best with him, but he never pushes. Louis does not respond well to pushing. He must find his people on his own, but he won’t.

He clutches desperately at the past, like the future is beyond his reach. But Harry has plans for him. He only asks that Louis wait for him.

\--

Niall busks in a suit today, his jacket thrown over the back of the small folding chair he carries with him in addition to his guitar. Harry can sense the job interview went well, though his heart was not in it. This is where his heart lays, in his music.

He does not wish to see any of his souls to waste their potential. Niall would do well at this job, he is good with people and good with numbers. But his heart would not be in his work, and Niall has too much heart to risk it wasting away.

Harry often feels as though if he had a heart and if it could break, it would break for his lost souls. It would break for those who could not take the opportunities presented to them. It would break for those who could not feel Harry’s warmth. It would break for Harry himself that he could not help them.

Niall will not be lost.

He has set himself across the street from the pub, with some help, and Harry senses the moment is soon. He watches the door, something close to anxiety touching him. The door opens and the manager steps out. Harry carries the music on the wind to her until her head perks up to look around for it.

Niall plays on unaware, pouring his soul into his words and his strums to create beauty. When he notices the manager of the pub stands before him, Niall gives her a smile. He has always been effortlessly good with audience members, drawing them in, making them feel taken care of. He’s just needed the right audience members.

“You ever play that thing indoors?” she asks once Niall has finished his song.

Niall glances down at his guitar. “Only when my flatmate’s out.”

“I run that pub over there,” she says, jerking her finger to the building. “We do a bit of a music showcase on Saturdays, if you're interested.”

“Very interested,” he says and gives her his name with his thanks.

He waits until she has rounded the corner before he jumps, whooping. Harry jumps with him, waving his arms frantically. Niall shines bright with elation, just with the mere thought of someone asking him to perform. His warmth grows with gratitude and Harry is pleased.

“Nicely done,” Harry compliments.

“Fuck, yeah,” Niall agrees.

Harry grins. He has one step left.

\--

Liam clutches the jewel case in his hands, nearly threatening to break it with the force he applies.

“Easy, Bruce Banner, don’t smash it,” Harry says, sliding his fingers gently down Liam's forearm until his grip loosens. Liam smiles a little -- he likes those kinds of jokes, so Harry tries his hardest to remember them.

“You have earned this opportunity, you have paid your dues,” Harry tells him. “This music is beautiful because carries a piece of your soul and their souls. It cannot fail.”

Liam sighs out some measure of his nerves and knocks on the office door of his boss at the exact moment of their appointment. He is unerringly prompt as always.

Liam clears his throat and explains the demo, tells her about the girls of Little Mix, and how he has produced their EP himself. He is nervous but he speaks with confidence Harry does not need to support. His boss watches him patiently as he finishes his speech and snaps his mouth shut to await judgment.

“Have a seat,” she says.

“Um,” Liam says before he falls into one of the chairs before her desk.

She queues up the CD, and Liam starts to sweat. He didn’t think she would play it while he was still in the room, clearly, but this is a good thing. Harry gives him a thumbs up he can’t see but knows he can feel. She has faith in him, so she does not dismiss him. Harry is pleased to know there are others who regard Liam as highly as he does.

“I’m impressed,” she says when it’s over. “I like them very much.”

“Thank you,” Liam answers with a flush of his cheeks, the warmth of which Harry can feel from across the room.

“Are you interested in A&R?” she asks, quirking an assessing eyebrow at him.

“Yes, absolutely,” Liam says. “It’s been a real passion of mine since I was a kid. I'm really interested in cultivating local talent.”

“We scout at this pub on Saturdays when we can,” she says, scratching out the information onto a piece of paper and handing it over to him. “I’ll take a look over your reports and we can see about moving you to train under our seasoned scouts."

He thanks her profusely until she kicks him out of her office. He leans against the wall outside her office, lets his eyes slide shut, and he breathes out another thank you. Just for Harry.

\--

Louis is already seated at the bar by the time Harry arrives with Liam. Harry knew he could count on Louis’ presence without guidance, though he doesn’t necessarily count how much he frequents this place as a positive. He glances up at Liam when he approaches the bar and starts a friendly chat with the bartender. Louis squints at Liam like he’s assessing him.

Harry leans over to Louis and promises, “He's a good one.”

Louis raises his eyebrows like the fact is yet to be confirmed, and Harry laughs.

Liam feels tense, even in this relaxed environment. It’s been ages since he’s left his flat for anywhere other than work or the shops, having spent months and months going straight home from work to focus on the demo. Though he was brought here by work, Harry has several other plans for him tonight if Liam is open to them.

Harry follows a tug from across the room to Niall, who stands in the corner and tunes his guitar carefully. Harry rests a gentle hand between Niall’s shoulder blades and waits for some of the tension to ease out of his back.

“M’nervous,” Niall mutters, though he really does not need to. Harry can feel the waves of anxiety roll off of him.

“It is okay to be nervous,” Harry says. “It means you care.” He presses a kiss to Niall’s cheek for serenity and moves to the cluster of tables and chairs around the platform where Niall is meant to perform.

Liam waits there at a table with a pint and his notebook. His leg jumps up and down impatiently, but it is with excitement, not fear, so Harry allows him to continue. Not only do Niall’s dreams rest on the outcome of this night, but so do Liam’s. Harry would not rest either of their fates on anyone else but each other, he trusts them so.

“This is going to be a good night,” Harry says.

Liam grins and leans forward, like he agrees, when Niall takes the stage to test the equipment settings. It is almost time.

Harry turns for Louis and beckons to him. Louis only stares. Harry beckons again and Louis remains unmoved. He will not lose this soul, he will not allow Louis to reject this opportunity, not this time. It’s not only Louis who needs people, but Liam too. Harry can’t be everything he wants to be for Liam, but he knows Niall and Louis can help fill his heart.

“Louis,” he insists, his voice carrying across the bar, the weight of it pinching Louis’ face into something unhappy but pulling him off of his stool nonetheless. He throws himself into a chair at the table next to Liam somewhat reluctantly, but he’s there.

“Thank you,” Harry says and settles in his seat between the two of them.

“All right, everyone? I’m Niall. How’re you doing this lovely evening?” he says and receives a light but polite smattering of applause. Liam claps the hardest. “Well, I seem to be having a better night than you lot are, so we’ll see if we can’t turn that around.”

He gets laughter at that, from Louis and Liam and a few others. They will all see, soon enough, Harry knows. All they have to do is pay attention.

“Gonna do a few songs for you tonight. Some golden oldies, some of me own, and we’ll see how that goes. Deal?”

Niall begins with one of Harry’s favorites, one that he asks Niall to play for him often, and Niall kindly obliges. It is called _Dreams_ , and it fascinates him. He has only ever heard of dreams, sometimes he can feel their pull linger on his souls in the morning, but he does not truly understand them. He wonders if they are a way for people to sense for their own path, to get in touch with their souls.

Harry thinks if he could dream, he would still dream of the souls in his care. He would dream of their fulfillment, their happiness. Or he would dream of a life with Liam. A life where they would sit in his pub and experience Niall’s music together. They could lean into each other and whisper their thoughts and encouragements. Liam could take his hand and hold it, and Harry could taste his lips. But Harry is not meant to dream.

Louis glances over at Liam when Niall takes a short break to hydrate after half his set is over. Harry can feel the debate rage within him and he fears Louis will choose the wrong side.

“You think you are not worthy of his friendship, but you are wrong,” Harry says, resting his hand on Louis’ shoulder. “Those you have lost, they were not worthy of you. Do not allow them to dampen your warmth because they could not feel it. There are still those who are worthy of you, and you will in turn be worthy of them.”

Louis’ face crumples so hard he ducks his head so no one can see him recompose himself. But he nods, ever so slightly, and Harry knows that he listens.

“He’s good,” Louis says after a while, darting a hesitant glance over at Liam.

“Yeah, he’s ace,” Liam answers enthusiastically.

Harry watches Louis softens at the successful opening of their conversation. They don’t have long before they will realize their compatibility, before the fire in their souls start to feed off each other and grow wildly.

“Are you taking notes?” Louis asks, leaning over to nosily peek at what Liam jots down.

“Yeah, I’m in A&R for my record company. Well. I’m trying to be,” he says with a small laugh. “I’ve been sent to scout the talent tonight.”

“Ah. Sick,” Louis says, leaning back in his chair. A frown forms on his face and he uncharacteristically seems to think that he should not distract Liam from his work. Harry frowns too -- he is not meant to pull away, not after all of this.

Liam looks back down over his notes and scratches a few more out. He’s got a million thoughts about Niall’s voice and Niall’s potential. He’s relentless. Harry wants him to represent Niall well, but he also wants Liam to remember what it was like to have fun on his own. He wants Liam to be alive in the world around him, instead of stuck in his head as he too often is.

“You cannot spend this entire evening working, Liam,” Harry tells him. “You have plenty of notes. Be present in this moment.”

Liam puts down his pen and looks over at Louis. “I’m going to buy him a drink after, I think. If you want to join us, you can tell us what you thought of him.”

“Yeah, all right,” Louis says easily, as though his heart doesn’t pound in his chest.

“I’m Liam,” he says, offering his hand. Louis takes it and introduces himself just as Niall starts up again. Harry surges with pride between the two of them.

Niall works the way through the rest of his set to warm appreciation from the crowd, most of the pub rapt even though they hadn’t started the evening paying attention to him. He thanks the crowd over and over until he shuffles off the stage.

“I’ll be right back,” Liam promises. Louis waves him on casually, but the moment Liam is gone, he runs his hands up and down his jeans nervously.

Louis does not need to worry. Harry watches them come together beautifully, as though they have always belonged to each other. He supposes they have, considering they all belong to Harry.

He watches Niall and Liam connect quickly, all smiles and gratitude as Liam tells him why he's come and how much he enjoyed the show. He watches Niall introduce himself to Louis when Liam goes for their next round. Liam pulls two more chairs to Louis’ table, seeming to know they had an extra to their party without acknowledging it. Harry gratefully takes his place with them in the empty chair beside Liam and surveys his work.

They fall into each other easily, like they have known each other for years, cracking inside jokes far sooner than should be allowed for near strangers. Louis stares at Liam like he’s known him for years, like he feels all the things Harry has said of him and knows this is who Harry meant. Niall laughs openly, sliding into their banter with the practiced ease of someone who makes their living connecting with strangers.

“You’re a teacher?” Liam sputters. “ _You_?”

“Yes, Liam," Louis sniffs, "I mold the young minds of this country. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Three minutes ago you told us you once set fire to an antique settee from 1845,” Niall laughs.

“Well, I don’t teach history, do I?” Louis says. “And I told you that wasn’t entirely my fault.”

Harry watches Liam’s shoulders slowly relax, the tension and stress that’s been sitting on him for months easing out. He is on the cusp of something great -- they all are. He widens his legs a little, pressing against Harry’s leg, seeming to need contact. Or maybe Harry only hopes he wants contact.

Harry desperately wants to be the fourth person at this table, to lean back against Liam, to swap stories of his day with the three of them, to ask about Louis’ kids at school, to compliment Niall’s music and earnestly discuss his future collaboration with Liam, to laugh along to their jokes and have it mean something to them.

Harry is not meant to want, but he does.

\--

Liam has two new phone numbers in his cellphone at the end of the night. He’s warm from the drink and from meeting two of his soulmates. Harry is sure that is what they are -- he can see the three of them tied together now that they have sought each other out. Their paths are intertwined.

Niall and Louis found their peace tonight, Harry is sure of their path. He kissed their foreheads for peace at the door of the pub and sent them on their way. He will not need to visit their souls again, but he should like to. He would settle for seeing them with Liam, if he could. But he suspects he won't see Liam again after tonight.

Harry sits on the edge of Liam’s bed as Liam sinks into it and lets his eyes drift shut. “Best fucking night,” Liam whispers like a thank you.

It feels like the end of what they have.

“You are amazing, Liam Payne,” Harry says, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Please do not forget you deserve this and more. Niall will serve you well, Louis will be true. You should trust them. They will love you because I cannot.”

He slowly loses Liam’s warmth, his soul slipping through Harry’s fingers. Completing his work does not feel like this, it didn’t feel this way with Niall and Louis. It should not feel like a loss but like closure. Liam must not feel his peace, then, and Harry is sure is being punished, too blinded by his desire to be with Liam to do his duty. He feels shame burn through him as he spares a glance back at Liam.

Liam sleeps, peacefully and unaware, and Harry says his last goodbye.

\--

Harry wakes. This immediately alarms him because he doesn’t awake. He just is.

He cracks open his eyes, heavy with sleep, lying on Liam’s bed with his hand outstretched ahead of him like it threatens to find a place over Liam’s heart. He does not feel the warmth, not of Liam, not of anyone. Still he remains beside Liam.

Harry blinks up at him, and Liam’s eyes are open, pointed at him. In another world, in another time, Liam could be looking straight into his eyes. Harry startles anyway at the intensity of his stare and shifts in the bed. Only the bed moves with him and it is not meant to.

“Good morning,” Liam says.

Harry freezes. He is never this explicit about talking to Harry. That isn’t how this works.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m pretty sure I fell asleep alone,” he adds, apparently when Harry says nothing.

Harry doesn’t understand. Nothing feels the same, nothing seems familiar -- not the world, not himself. “Can you see me?” he asks dumbly.

Liam’s eyes widen. “Say that again.”

“Say what again? Can you see me?”

“I know your voice,” Liam says earnestly. “I know you, don’t I?”

He tries to leave, but he can’t seem to deliver himself. He has no souls to latch onto, so he remains in Liam’s bed. He sits up so he can run instead.

“Wait,” Liam says and grabs hold of his hand, his fingers curling around it until Harry can feel the brush of them against his palm.

Harry gasps at his touch, his hand growing warm as it sends a shiver down Harry’s body. Harry turns his hand to clasp properly at Liam’s, holding him tightly as he’s always wanted. It’s real, and it feels better than Harry could have ever imagined. He sinks back down until his head rests on one of Liam's pillows once more.

“Who are you?” Liam asks. Harry has nothing to tell him but the truth.

“I have been your guardian, entrusted with the care of your soul for many years,” Harry says. “I have served you and guided you and cared for you. Now... it seems I have been released from my duties.”

Liam considers this carefully. He does not appear to question it, though no human has ever met their guardian in life. Harry knows him to be generous, trusting. Liam must feel the history between them, he must know Harry speaks in earnest.

“But why?” he asks. “I’m sorry, did I get you in trouble or something?” He looks upset at the thought he was the cause of Harry's release.

“No, you are not at fault,” Harry says, quick to reassure him. He places his hand over Liam’s heart. “I do not think I’m being punished. I think this is a gift.”

“Are you, like, are you human?”

“I don’t know,” Harry says. He is not used to knowing so little. He wishes he had been given a path, but he won’t complain.

“Do you have a name?”

“Harry,” he says, feeling the weight of it on his tongue. It’s the first time he’s said it aloud to someone. “My name is Harry.”

Liam nods like it seems to make sense to him, knowing Harry’s name. “Your voice.”

“What about it?”

“I like listening to it,” Liam says thoughtfully. “Feels comfortable, familiar. Do you talk to me often?”

“Constantly,” Harry says with a grin. “I hoped you liked it.”

“I think I did,” Liam says, matching his grin. He looks down to where his hand still grasps Harry’s, but he thankfully doesn’t pull away. “Did you say I was a gift?”

“Yes, I wanted you very much,” Harry answers.

Liam frowns like he doesn’t understand. “You did?”

“We are not meant to want,” Harry says quietly, in deference to his position as he still feels the dregs of shame for having disobeyed. “We are only meant to protect. But I have wished to know you, to be part of your life. I have wanted to earn your love because you already have mine. I have wanted you for a long time, Liam. You are very beautiful.”

Liam blushes, turning his head down. “You are also very beautiful,” he mumbles and squeezes Harry’s hand.

Harry is surprised. “You can feel my warmth?”

“Um,” Liam says, his eyes going wide. He shifts away from Harry a little, showing him his other hand. “I wasn’t -- I mean.”

“I did not know you could perceive souls,” Harry says curiously.

“Oh,” Liam sputters. “ _Oh_ , yes, no. I can’t. I thought you might have meant something else. That -- that makes a lot more sense. I just. I meant your face, you have a good one.”

“Thank you.” Harry has never seen his face, but he trusts Liam. Liam is kind, but he does not say things he does not mean. He likes that Liam likes some part of him, at least on the surface, until he can get to know Harry. If he wants to know Harry.

Liam thinks a lot -- Harry doesn't have to sense him to know he has a hundred questions. His face is easy enough to read. “If you’re my guardian and all," Liam says slowly, "everything I have is thanks to you?”

“Everything you have is thanks to you,” Harry answers. “I have presented opportunities or quelled your fears or given you support when you needed it, but you have made your path. I am meant to help you find your peace and when my work is done, your soul is no longer in my charge.”

“Are you my peace?” Liam asks, his voice tinged with awe.

Harry’s breath catches in his chest, an unfamiliar sensation. He wants to be Liam’s peace desperately, he wants to be the reason Liam feels complete. “I think I have been given to you," he admits, knowing his words are selfish. "If you will have me.”

“I think I’ve been waiting for you,” Liam whispers and rests a hand to Harry’s cheek.

Harry closes his eyes and leans into the touch, relishing the weight of him against his skin. It’s all Harry thinks he could ever want until Liam’s soft lips present gently to his own. Harry comes alive at the touch, though he isn’t sure what to do with it but stay connected to Liam as long as he can. It feels like a dream.

When they part, Harry awakens for the second time that day to find Liam staring at him with wonder. Harry could not have dreamt anything better. His eyes start to water and tears spill over before he can stop them, long tracks running down his cheeks and into the pillow.

“Are you crying?” Liam says, his face growing worried. “Should I not have done that?”

“No, Liam, that was everything I hoped it would be,” Harry promises, blinking several times, but that only serves to push more tears down his face. “I do not know how to stop it.” He has witnessed tears from great sadness and great happiness, and he thinks he sheds these for his happiness, as inconvenient as they are.

Liam wipes gently at Harry’s cheeks. He scoots toward Harry, snaking his hands around him and pulling him gently forward until Harry is lying across Liam’s chest. He closes his eyes to focus on the rhythm of Liam’s heartbeat. Harry is sure his heart beats now, and he’s sure it beats for Liam.

“Do you think, would you mind talking to me?” Harry asks.

“Uh. Sure,” Liam says lightly. “What would you like me to talk about?”

“Anything. Everything. I want to hear your voice.”

“Okay,” Liam says. He tells Harry about Niall and Louis first, about the things he’s learned about them, about how happy they make him. It’s a story Harry already knows, but is happy to receive from Liam anyway.

It’s Liam’s hands laced in his hair, Liam’s voice that speaks only for his ears that makes him feel complete. He has the things he’s longed for, the things he thinks he’d dream about, and it feels like he’s found his own peace. Harry did not know he could find his own peace.

Even if he were only granted this gift for a day, an hour, a minute, that would be enough.

\---- 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading! If you need me, I am [here.](http://wickershire.tumblr.com/post/136121203548/title-its-a-beautiful-sound-its-a-beautiful)


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